April 15th, 2005

Brilliant!

(no subject)

Had another sub job today. Seventh- and eighth-grade choir. It wasn't bad. I actually had four choir classes and two beginning guitar classes. The choir classes got to just do study hall all day, though they mostly just sat around and talked, and the guitar classes had to practice Greensleeves, but I tell ya, none of what they were playing sounded like Greensleeves to me.

Most of the kids were pretty okay. Some tested me a little, throwing paper airplanes and such until I casually mentioned something about the report I had to write at the end of class.

In my last guitar class, I had some kids I wanted to smack. Unfortunately, schools frown on that sort of thing. Then several of the kids (all boys in this class, except for one girl) started trying to convince me that their teacher gave them each five dollars every day.

"No," said I.

"Well, what you say if I told you I was poor?"

"I would still say no."

Different kid. "What would you say if I told you I lived in a dumpster?"

"I would say you're lying."

Different kid, with a very smug look on his face. "What would you say if I told you my dad died?"

I looked at him and said, "I would say I'm very sorry and I know how you feel."

That shut him right up.

A while later he asked how old I was "when it happened" to me, because it happened to him just last month. I told him I was thirteen, in eighth grade, and he said, "Like me."

"That's right."

Surprisingly enough, I liked that kid and his friends after that. The other boys in the class, however...

"I MADE UP THIS SONG!" *plays a riff from some Jimi Hendrix song* "THIS ONE TOO!" *Metallica* "THIS ONE TOO!" *some other song that's familiar*

Then he started singing. Eventually I had to threaten him with the after-class report, too.

Then I had lunch duty, which basically means I was stuck in this neon cafeteria (each wall painted bright yellow, orange, green, or blue), pacing in conspicuous circles, picking stuff up off the tables and stacking chairs. Then I got to come home at around 1pm.

All in all, not so bad. I wish that I was more intimidating, but most of the kids were less horrible than I thought they'd be. I think I made a couple friends, including one very sullen girl who looked like she was about to cry the whole time. We got to talking about art and she smiled at me. That was good enough.
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Brilliant!

(no subject)

10 things I want to do before I die: (Stolen from natsaih)

1. Visit everywhere on my wish list.
2. Meet a few #lothies and LJers.
3. Get a story published.
4. Become an illustrator.
5. Love someone and be loved back.
6. Lose weight.
7. Get a pet hedgehog (OMG so cute).
8. Have or adopt a child.
9. Grow my own vegetable garden, and have an herb garden on my windowill.
10. Have my own house. Doesn't have to be big, but it will have wood floors and big overstuffed armchairs and a kitchen with big windows and two ovens and pans hanging from hooks, and big wooden beams in the ceilings. The outside will be stone. There will be a bay window for me to sit in, and a big heavy four-poster bed piled high with thick quilts, and fluffy throw rugs on all the floors.
Brilliant!

(no subject)

I'm reading a book mom sent me, The Passion of Artemisia. It's about the painter Artemisia Gentileschi. Not the sort of thing I would normally read, but very well-written.

Anyway, I turned the page and there, in the crevice between pages 244 and 245, were a bunch of short, thin, black hairs.

My guess is that mom was reading and Ink came up and plopped his huge hairy black ass down right smack-dab in the middle of the page. The kitty sent me a present. Aww.